


Colombian Nights

by Cartoon_Idiot_59



Series: Uncle Idiot's 2021 Stanuary-palooza [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 13:02:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28956888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cartoon_Idiot_59/pseuds/Cartoon_Idiot_59
Summary: Part three of Stanuary-palooza 2021: Crime (includes the prompts: Colombia and Cops)
Relationships: Stan Pines & the law
Series: Uncle Idiot's 2021 Stanuary-palooza [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2090496
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Stanuary





	Colombian Nights

**Author's Note:**

> How Stan got out of prison.

Stan Pines was languishing in his cell. Jorge and Rico were trying to siesta in the afternoon heat. A guard banged his baton against the bars. 

"¡Tú, Silvicultor! ¡Número S-seis dieciocho! ¡Ven conmigo! ¡El alcaide quiere verte!" The guard shouted.

Stan grinned. "Later, guys! The warden wants to see me!" He said as the guard led him away. The day was looking up!

"Morir." Suggested Jorge.

"Sí." Agreed Rico.

"Aw, you guys! What jokers!" Stan said. 

He was led to the warden's office and shown in. The warden, an expansive man in an ill fitting suit boomed at him. "¡Señor Silvicultor! Eres norteamericano, ¿verdad? ¿De los Estados Unidos? Shall we speak Inglés?"

"Works for me." Stan said.

"Good, good. Bueno. We knew you weren't Saúl Silvicultor from the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. Or Esteban Pinos from Bogotá. So who are you in los Estados Unidos?"

Might as well come clean. Things were shaking out. "Lots of people. I was born Stan Pines."

"I see. Well, señor Pines, how would you like to go home? You're an annoyance here. Your cellmates don't like you. The guards don't like you. I don't like you. But there are certain... questions and complications if a norteamericano just disappears. However, you might perform a service for the Policía Nacional de Colombia. We would then be inclined to send you on your way."

"Right. I hate bein' an annoyance. What do I gotta do?"

"Nothing much. Am I correct in assuming that you are familiar with allanamiento de morada? Breaking and entering?" The warden asked.

"I mighta done it once or twice." Stan allowed.

"Good. There is a new player in the Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. Name of Escobar. Your marijuana farmers are switching to coca. Señor Escobar is trying to control the drug trade. We would like to keep an eye on him. We would like you to place some listening devices in his home." The warden explained.

"Uh-huh. And if he catches me?"

"Then you will die, señor. Slowly and horribly."

"Right. So I can try to bug this Escobar for ya, and probably get killed, or I can hang around here, bein' an annoyance. Easy choice! When do we start?" Stan said.

"Right away!' answered the warden, reaching across the desk to shake his hand.

____________________________________________________

Of course it wasn't right away, but two weeks later Stan Pines was pushed out of a moving unmarked Policía Nacional de Colombia SUV just uphill and upwind of the palatial home of Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria. Stan scrambled downhill to the twenty foot wall and worked around to where the branches of a tree were overhanging from inside. Using a grappling gun of his own design he snagged a branch and was pulled up by the grappling hook. Getting himself comfortable on the branch, leaning back against the trunk, he opened the briefcase he carried. Taking some of the sedatives from the pill bottle in the briefcase, he shoved them into some lumps of hamburger. Placing two fingers in his mouth he gave a shrill whistle. The tree was surrounded by four rottweilers and Stan tossed the meat down and waited. After about ten minutes the dogs were all soundly asleep and he lowered himself to the ground. He was dressed all in black with tight black leather gloves. He made his way to the house, cut a wire, used a glass cutter to cut a circular hole in a window on a french door, reached in and let himself in.

Well, I'm inside! He thought to himself. He consulted the layout of the house the cops had given him and headed to the office. He made quick work of the door lock, entered, and placed bugs in the telephone on the desk and the top left hand drawer. He left the office, hid in a hallway from a wandering guard with an AK-47, made his way to the dining room and placed another listening device inside a leg of the table. He decided that he wanted to hold on to the kit la policía had given him, he particularly liked the nearly silent drill. He snuck a surveillance camera into the vent where it had a clear view of the front door and proceeded to stop following the instructions given to him by the Policía Nacional de Colombia. Instead he made his way to Escobar's bedroom, chloroformed one guard and sapped the other, made his way in (after snipping another alarm wire), sat down at the desk in the room, put his feet up and coughed loudly.

Escobar sat up in bed, pointing a pistol at Stan. Stan just grinned and indicated the Kalashnikov he had taken from the guard outside the bedroom. "You Escobar?" He asked.

"Sí. Who's the hombre muerto I'm talking to?" Escobar said.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is I'm here in your room, with your gun, and you're still alive. You are gonna give me a free flight to the U. S. of A on account of that."

"Why don't I just feed you to my dogs?" 

"One, 'cause the doggies are havin' a nice little nap right now. Two, 'cause if you do that, you won't find the bugs I put here for the federales. Three, 'cause if you stop and think about it, you'll realize that you coulda woke up an' been the hombre muerto. I don't want much, just a ride with some of your cocaine. I don't want money, or a piece of the action. I don't want jack! I just wanna go home! Oh, and I don't like gettin' played by the cops! You get ta live, ya don't lose nothin' and once I'm on American soil I tell ya where I put the bugs! Ya gotta watch your mouth until then, just another reason ya should be glad to see the back of me. This isn't hard, Pablo! I'm in your fuckin' ROOM!" 

"You have a point, gringo. You have several. What's in it for you?" Escobar asked.

"I get outta la penitenciaría. I get to stick it to the warden who sent me here tryin' to get me killed. With you takin' over the trade, there's no room for small fry like me. I get to go home and run some other scams. I get outta Columbia an' you get to keep out from under the federales. Win-win, see?"

"You have a deal, gringo! You just give me that gun now, yes?"

"No, thanks, Pablo. I'll hold onto it for a while. Not that I don't trust you, it's just that I don't trust you. Y'know?"

So Stan Pines wound up somewhere in the florida keys along with 800 kilos of cocaine. He gave the pilot a list of locations of listening devices and one AK-47. He never heard from the warden or Pablo Escobar again. He DID hear from Rico again, but Rico was trying to set himself up as competition for Escobar and eventually became dog food.

Stan never mentioned the bug he put in the desk in Escobar's bedroom. A man can't remember EVERYTHING!

**Author's Note:**

> I like it. Stan scams everyone. Not his fault the federales didn't use what they got from the one bug. We get to have Stan be a crook and a hero, whatever works for you!


End file.
